The Truth
by Tia Paes
Summary: Gordon wants answers and the only person to go to is the Joker.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Batman or any of the characters.

**Summary: **Gordon wants answers and the only person to go to is the Joker.

--

Staring at his own reflection in the mirror of his cell, the Joker narrowed his eyes in concentration. Long ago he had been forced to wash away his identity to reveal a hideously smooth and unbleached face that he had to look at day in and day out. He could even see dark patches under his eyes but in his defence, he had created them through long nights of dark thoughts.

The only reminder of his glory… his power, was his elongated mouth that stretched his smile wider then any others. His hair was still long and when he examined it closely he could see that it was a slightly greenish tinge, the best colour to brighten up a boring cell.

He placed his two index fingers within his mouth and sharply pulled, stretching his smile wider to reveal his yellowed teeth.

The guard banged the door to his cell and he heard through the door the man yell, "Hey freak, stop that. I don't want to have to come in there and teach you a lesson."

The joker released his index fingers and let himself reveal his true smile, his true identity that would never be washed away but would be permanently etched into him forever. Running his hands over his face he smoothed them over the rough bumps that lined his face, the testimony of his past and his life before Gotham.

He licked his lips and moved over to the door, sauntering first to the wall next to it and turning slightly, hunching his shoulders.

Licking his fingers he asked, "But I need to keep up appearances. After all, it's so dull always being so serious… Oh, I know, would you like to hear how I got these scars?"

The guard banged on the door with the butt of his gun this time and spoke through the door, "You've told me before, now get back a bit. I don't like you being to close, freak."

Wringing his hands together the Joker heard a few knuckles crack but ignored the sound as he swayed slightly on the spot, leaning down just below the window, "Oh, but I lied then. I have the true story. Would you like to hear it? I bet you're terribly curious, after all no one really knows how did the famous maniacal Joker get his infamous scars? Everyone wants to hear and I'm giving you the chance… Are you a taker?"

There was a pause but finally the guard answered, "You're making it sound like were trading something..."

Flaring his nostrils, he licked his lips again and moved close to the window, so his cheek was pressed against it and his eye revolving around to the guard, "I only ask for a story of yours in return."

"Well I'll tell you a story. A story of a crazy freak that bombed the hospital my cousin was staying out. You're lucky he got out safely or I'd be making you're life a living hell."

The joker shot up and tapped the glass, "HELL!! Ah, Hell!! See that's very relevant because Hell is why I got these scars. I want to tell you how I got my scars. Would you like to hear of how I got my scars? Well, My family was very religious and I would always go to church. After Sunday school, I was talking to the priest and I frowned for a minute and he said, 'a child who frowns is destined to meet St. Peter with a weighted heart. A frowning child always goes down.' Well, being the good little boy I was I did not want to go to hell. Not. One. Bit. So I took up the kitchen knife and I cut myself a permanent smile. So no down for me!"

He laughed to himself, slowly letting the volume increase until his chest was heaving with the effort.

Stopping suddenly, he looked to the guard and noticed his grim expression.

The Joker asked, "Why so serious?"

He laughed again until his body was heaving with the effort and his fists were banging on the door.

It was only until the guard threatened to throw him in the hole did he quit laughing but every now and again he would release a high-pitched giggle that would echo strangely in the cell.

After a few more minutes the cell was quite again and he rested on the floor, his arms and legs spread around him like he was trying to create a snow angel.

He had been so close.

Everything was going the way he wanted it to. He was finally going to show everyone what a mastermind he was. What a classic villain, the kind that is secretly admired by everyone for his genius, his brilliance. But he had made one fatal mistake.

He had planned.

He had planned everything so that nothing wrong could happen and just like he knew it would deep down in his endless heart, everything went wrong. If only he had let lady luck intervene, a puppet is only a strong as his puppeteers and he hadn't relied enough on that lady.

Shame, shame, shame.

Snapping out of his thoughts he flapped his arms uselessly around on the concrete and sighed great heaving breaths.

Turning his disfigured face to the guard, he asked, "would you like to hear how I got these scars?"

He got no response so he took the opportunity to speak on it, "Well, I was out fishing one day with my father. I loved my father, he wa –…"

He heard dull noise from outside of his prison cell and he sat up, looking at the door in curiosity. Distinguishing it as conversation he wondered at who could be there. The sound of the retreating guard bothered him…

To suspend the future events, the Joker though out loud, "Hmmm… I wonder who that could be? I would bet my life on it that it's a bat. A certain bat that I am loathe to meet again… but who could get in the way of a bat? An infamous bat at that…"

He got onto his knees and crawled toward the door. Perching under it he lifted his head just high enough to see through the window with only his forehead and eyes showing.

A surprise met him though; his visitor was none other then the famous Commissioner James Gordon.

Grinning from ear to ear he giggled at the visitor who squinted his eyes in return, "Well, well, well. I am very privileged to meet with the famous Commissioner in such a private meeting. How is your wife? What about those two little brats of yours?"

Gordon just coughed and pursed his lips.

The joker continued, "Oh but why am I to be honoured by your presence?"

Gordon coughed again before asking, "Did you make Harvey Dent do what he did to my family?"

The joker laughed. The laugh was unlike any Gordon had heard and chilled his very bones.

"What do you think? I may have sung him a song or two but I hardly pushed him towards your family."

The sane man stood there for a minute to digest what he had heard. At length he ventured to ask, "Why would you persuade a man who had just lost the love of his life to seek revenge? What benefit is it to you?"

Laughing again he tapped the glass as if to experiment with the thickness and pressed his face against it, "Why? Why you ask? Why does anybody do anything? Why, why, why, why?"

Throwing back his head, the joker yelled at the ceiling, "do you want to know why? Because I thought it was funny," he suddenly tipped his head forward and squinted at Gordon, "… and it was… very… very funny."

Gordon nearly spat at the man as he spoke, "You're disgusting…"

His only reply was a grin that stretched to wide and eyes that glittered from some intense emotion the Joker was experiencing. The switches in mood didn't disturb him, the guard had told him what to expect and he wouldn't count anything out for such a deranged man.

Waltzing around the cell, the Joker narrowed his eyes, his chapped lips releasing spit as he spoke, occasionally to be wetted by the flick of his tongue, "Why did you come? You know why he did what he did. I think you really do."

Only a stony gaze met his speech so he tried again, "Has it ever occurred to you that some people just do things because they can? Because it is what they want, what they lust for, what they need… Not everything involves money. Not everything. Some things do… but not everything."

Moving closer to the door, The Joker was pleased to have caused a frown on the mans face. He smirked as he continued, "Why do you think I killed, for revenge? Never! Revenge for whom? For the world that treated me like trash? How it shunned me for the scars I was never meant to have? For the taunts? The ridicule? The pain? The endless agonizing hours planning every day in order to never to be seen by the eyes of those filthy vain creatures you call the innocents?"

The guard returned to his post and politely told Gordon to leave. Inside the cell, he could hear the maniacal laugh of the Joker bouncing off the walls of the cell. Staring inside for a moment he slowly turned to walk away, satisfied that he was talking with no more than a madman.

As he walked, the Jokers voice could still be heard trailing him, "Or perhaps my righteous one, the truth that you will never believe is that no matter how many times you wish for it to be different, some people are born to create havoc. Some people are born to die with the knowledge that they have made the world a worse place."

He turned the corner and walked out of sight, shuddering from the voice that spoke of the truth and nothing else. He could only hope that those few people who were born with the desire to create evil could be brought to justice.

In his cell, the Joker stared into his hands at the makeshift blade made from the metal lining of his toilet bowl. He clenched his fist and watched as the crimson blood dripped onto the pristine concrete floors and laughed to himself.

The real truth was, that some people are just meant to live.

Even if it meant through the cost of others.

And that was precisely what he would do.

He stared at the back of the guard and waited.

In his hand the makeshift blade cut deeper into his palm.

--

Hope you enjoyed this fic!

Please review! I would love to hear about whether or not the Joker is in character. He is incredibly difficult to write about...


End file.
